This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is listed in WifeWatchman’s biography.
Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.
This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racism, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.
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Part 6 – Security Review
“This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!” shouted the redheaded MILF reporterette at 7:00am, Friday, July 3d, from the rooftop of the building at the corner of Riverside and College, with City Hall in the background. “Civil Right leaders are calling for a boycott of all July 4th festivities in our Town & County!”
Bettina began: “Eldrick X. Weaver, who some say was defrauded of a victory in the last race for Mayor, has joined with Edgar Silas, the Democrat nominee for the Council seat held by Reginald B.F. Lewis, and Stacey Jacobs, who narrowly lost to Malinda Adams in a bid for Adams’s Council seat, in calling for People of Color to boycott the Town & County Triathlon, Picnic, and Fireworks show tomorrow.”
Bettina: “The Civil Rights leaders are calling for the boycott to show that America’s Independence Day is a day commemorating White Nationalism and the values of the white slaveowners that founded the Nation. They are also calling for a rally at the ‘Jasmine’ nightclub, named after Jasmine Nix, who was murdered just as her album Power of Police was released, an anthem of protest of Police brutality against People of Color.”
Bettina: “Additionally, civil rights leaders are calling for everyone to boycott the Town & County Triathlon, as the honorary Starter for the event is Lieutenant Governor Sharon Marshall, the Republican nominee for Governor. Social Justice groups consider Lieutenant Governor Marshall to be a White Nationalist like deeply unpopular Governor Val Jared, and demanded that Ms. Marshall be disinvited from attending the event. Town Mayor Daniel Allgood ignored those demands, saying the Ms. Marshall is welcome in our County on Saturday or any other day of the year.”
Bettina: “And in a related story, the funeral of our colleague Lester Holder will be today at 2:00pm at Martin Luther King, Jr. Park. The funeral was originally to be at the A.M.E. Church, but the Paster of the Church, the Rev. Joseph E. Williams, refused to officiate at the ceremony, saying in a statement, quote: ‘Lester Holder did not die a martyr for black causes, but as a common criminal associate of Jacquez Wilson, who sold filthy drugs to black children.’, close quote. Edgar Silas blasted Dr. Williams’s comment as ‘insensitive to the plight of People of Color’, but no other black leaders have come out and publicly condemned Dr. Williams.”
Bettina: “The Police Union continues to call for the reinstatement of Sergeant McCombs, whose trial for attempted murder of an unarmed black man ended in a hung jury. However, the Union’s calls for Commander Donald Troy to be fired for a separate grievance has met with strong pushback by Police Officers in the TCPD. Roll tape.”
Tape rolled, showing MCD Lieutenant Jerome Davis saying “”The Police Union’s call for Commander Troy to be fired is not shared by the vast majority of TCPD Officers. The TCPD is lucky to have leadership like Commander Troy, Chief Moynahan, and Sheriff Griswold. They have our backs. The Union only has the back of a corrupt white cop that showed racist hatred towards blacks.”
SWAT Team Member Robert Kalsu. who was white, was also shown, saying “I don’t know why our Police Union continues to whine about Commander Troy and call for his firing, when he is one of the best leaders we could possibly have. He has our backs and we know it, and we’ve told the Union that. For whatever reason, the Union continues to push a political agenda rather than serve the dues-paying Town & County Police Officers they are supposed to be representing.”
Bettina said to Kalsu: “If the Union is not responding to its members, what can you do?”
Kalsu: “This State allows Union members to disallow automatic withdrawal of Union dues from our paychecks. If the Union persists in taking positions contrary to the best interests of the Officers of the TCPD, we will not only stop the automatic withdrawal, we will withhold paying any Union dues. Decertification of our Union is also an option for us.”
Back to Bettina live: “And Police Officer Inga Gundottar, who was allegedly kidnapped and badly beaten by Jacquez Wilson and his associates, remains in critical condition at University Hospital. She is scheduled for another round of surgeries next week if her condition continues to improve. And now for Sports with Jeff Hull. Jeff!…”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Who authorized Kalsu to speak on camera like that?” asked Chief Sean Moynahan as we drank coffee and watched the broadcast in the Chief’s Conference Room.
“I did, Chief.” I said, stepping up and taking responsibility. “I approved Jerome, too.”
“So did I.” said Cindy. “And I all but twisted Bettina’s arm to include Jerome’s comments.” Actually, it had been Captain Damien Thompson’s idea to include Jerome, since Jerome was black. But Cindy stepped up and took responsibility for it like the outstanding leader she was, in case the Chief didn’t like what Jerome had done.
“I under-stannnnnd.” drawled the Chief. “But we’ll have further discussions lay-terrrrr on who should be talking to the Press.”
“Chief,” I said, “it is very possible that Kalsu might take on a role of leadership with regard to the Police Union, and what he’s doing now is gaining him tremendous respect.”
“No-tedddd.” said the Chief. “As I said, we’ll talk later.”
“Give Bettina credit for showing that, too.” Cindy said. “They are what they are, but Bettina and KXTC are worlds better than what they were before Penis Holder died and Burt West was kicked to the kerb. Wouldn’t you agree, Don?” Her ice-blue eyes twinkled as she looked at me, and Tanya Muscone also had a gleam in her eyes. I just slowly turned my head and looked at them as if they’d fallen out of their trees.
“I did find it interesting that she reported on Dr. Williams’s decision not to officiate Penis Holder’s funeral.” I eventually said.
“That one really rocked the Black Community.” growled Sheriff Griswold. “I expected more condemnation of him than he got.”
“Why did he do that?” asked Tanya.
I said “The reason he gave is valid: he really hates drug pushers selling dope to black kids, because he knows it keeps blacks down more than anything the politicians of either Party are doing. And to the Sheriff’s question: Dr. Williams is still bitter about the primary election last May, and thinks it was rigged for Silas to steal the election from him. He’s even considered endorsing the Republican candidate, Katina Jones, in that Council race.” (Author’s note: ‘Eyes Only’, Ch. 01, 03, for Katina’s origins.)
Your Iron Crowbar: “And Edgar Silas bitterly hates Dr. Williams, as well, especially for refusing to concede the race and endorse him, Silas. Ergo, Silas’s attack on Dr. Williams, while no one else wants to touch that live wire.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Hello and welcome to Fox University Sunrise!” said Catrina Pierce at 8:00am. “I’m Catrina Pierce, and with me as always is Meredith Peller. Good morning, Meredith.”
“Good morning, Catrina. Good morning, everyone. Here’s what’s in the news.” said Meredith Peller. “The Police Union has come under heavy criticism from its own membership after the Union called for the firing of Commander Donald Troy over a grievance filed by a Patrolman weeks ago. The Union also has demanded that Sergeant McCombs, who allegedly attempted to shoot and kill an unarmed black man, be reinstated to the Police Force.”
Catrina: “TCPD Chief Sean Moynahan has said many times that Sergeant McCombs will not be reinstated to the TCPD, and lawsuits by the Union were dismissed by Superior Court Judge Patrick R. Folsom. But the big story is that the Police rank-and-file has taken the rare step of publicly opposing their Union’s positions regarding Commander Troy. Roll tape.” Tape rolled, showing the same footage that KXTC had shown.
Meredith: “And in other news, local black politicians have called for boycotts of the Town & County Triathlon, Picnic, and Fireworks show, party due to Lieutenant Governor Sharon Marshall’s expected campaign appearance at the start of the Triathlon race. They have called for rallies protesting July 4th as a day celebrating white slaveowners, and protesting Police brutality against People of Color.”
Catrina: “Mayor Daniel Allgood refused demands by black politicians to disinvite Lieutenant Governor Marshall from Town & County festivities. And Fox Eight News has learned that Lieutenant Governor Marshall will visit TCPD Headquarters, to thank the TCPD and its leadership for standing firm against violent agitators and anarchists, and enforcing the Rule of Law…”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“I never cease to be amazed.” said Cindy Ross as we watched in my office to begin the Angels Meeting. “The same items discussed by two different newscasts, and they sound so completely different.”
“Catering to specific audiences, they are.” I said in my best Jedi Master Yoda grammar. “Unbiased, neither side is.” Cindy nodded vigorously in agreement.
“So Sharon Marshall is coming here? To TCPD Headquarters?” Tanya asked.
“Yes.” I said. “After the race starts, she’ll be transported here. You’ll be participating in the wheelchair race, Tanya, so you will miss her visit. And keep this under your hats, but part of her visit will be to ‘quietly’ consult with the Mayor, Our Sheriff and me on political campaign issues.”
“How long is she staying up here?” Cindy asked. “Surely not all day?”
“And don’t call me ‘Shirley’.” I said with a grin. “Seriously, she may or may not be here when the race ends, and if she’s here she may or may not give out the medals to the winners. But no, she won’t be here into the night. At least that’s what I was told.”
*CHIME!*
It was Tanya’s Police iPhone. She checked the message, then read it aloud to us. I said “Okay, let’s move this meeting to the Main Conference Room, invite the Chief in, and have the Precinct Captains and Lieutenants attend via videoconference…”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Present in the Main Conference Room were Chief Moynahan, me, Commander Ross, Captains Muscone and Thompson, and Lieutenants Mary Milton, Rudistan, and Davis. On video monitors were Captains Hewitt and Abram, Lieutenant DeLong, and Sr. Sergeant McGhillie.
After initial greetings, the Chief turned the meeting over to Lt. Mary Milton. She said “The Intel Division has developed and confirmed information that at least one group of Agitators, led by Eldrick X. Weaver, are going to march and protest on the starting line of the Triathlon, to mess up Lieutenant Governor Marshall’s appearance there. Our sources tell us that the Agitators intend to get violent if the Police intervene, and that Mayor Daniel Allgood will be targeted by them… and by that I mean they intend to bring him to physical harm.”
Audible groans were heard in the Conference Room and through the videoconference speakers. The Chief quickly stepped in, and said “Commander Troy, what are the security arrangement for the Lieutenant Governor?”
“The State Capitol Police, the SBI, and the State Patrol are in charge of her security.” I said. “The TCPD was not going to do much more than they normally do on July 4th: traffic and crowd control for the various races, the picnic and the fireworks show. The Mayor will be accompanying the Lieutenant Governor, and will be inside the State security detail’s protection, as well as having Deputy Sheriffs assigned to him.”
I continued: “One thing we were going to do that we don’t normally do is to restrict general access to the starting area of the Triathlon. We were going to have security checkpoints like airports have, where people have to be screened and ‘wanded’ to get into what the State people call the ‘green zone’, where Lieutenant Governor Marshall will be.”
“A large enough group of those slugs could overrun those checkpoints.” said Captain Muscone. “I’m worried about the wheelchair racers… by definition, they will be wheelchair-bound and could be targeted by the thugs.”
“And you would be their first target there.” I replied.
“You’d think those slugs would’ve learned after the Block House blew up.” Jerome Davis said, a tinge of anger in his voice. “I guess we’ll have to teach ’em another lesson about respecting the law and the rights of all citizens.”
“Strong letter to follow.” said Mary Milton, meaning it humorously.
“I’m serious.” said Jerome seriously. “These slugs are pissing me off.”
“And that’s one reason they’re doing this.” said Captain Thompson. “To piss us off… and hope we respond violently. It’s the optics that are worrying me.”
“And the optics for the Mayor and Loo-tenant Guv-nrrrr.” drawled the Chief. “I’m sure they’re hoping to force them to flee or have to be protected, and then the… what did you call it, Commander Troy… the Leftwing Looneyverse will start calling the Mayor ‘Bunker Boy’ (air quotes), and the Loo-tenant Guv-nrrr a coward.”
“The same Leftwing Looneyverse that was calling country singer Kenny Rogers a racist for supporting Grassroots Conservative politicians.” I replied. “We need to send those Haters back to the Center of the Leftwing Looneyverse… Wilmington, Delaware.”
“I’ll tell you what’s pissing me off.” Cindy said angrily “I know we had to spend the money, but the cost of those operations to put down the violent riots was steep… and Officers on duty tomorrow will get Holiday double time pay. I was hoping and thinking that the majority of our Officers could spend this July 4th holiday with their families, enjoying the festivities. But apparently these asshole agitators just won’t give us even one day of peace, and now we’re going to have to have the majority of the Force on duty, fully armored in the summer heat, and working these tense conditions.”
“Strong letter to follow.” I said, being the only person besides the Chief that had the rank… and the cojones… to say that to the Green Crowbar. And indeed, a green crowbar was waved in my general direction. Jerome joined in the laughter, which was good.
I continued: “But maybe we don’t have to call up the entire Police Force. Have them keep their cellphones on them and turned on, but not on duty, where they’ll just look like a military force… once again playing into the optics the Agitators want.”
“Commander,” said Captain Thompson, “if you’re thinking about the Guardians of Justice M.C., it won’t look good for the optics if a mostly-to-all-white Motorcycle Club engages the black Agitators, either.”
“Ohhhh, I beg to differ.” said Tanya fearlessly. “It would show the Left and their Media allies that people are tired of having their holidays and peaceful lives hijacked by violent protesters, and they’re taking their streets and their holidays back.”
“I have to a-greeee with Captain Thompson.” said the Chief. “The Media would have a field day with that. They’d probably blame Governor Jared and Loo-tenant Governor Marsh-ull, and try to impeach Governor Jared a second time.”
“Darn it, Chief.” I said. “I hate it when you make too much sense like that.” There were some polite chuckles at that.
“Why, thank yoooo, Mister Crowbarrr.” said the Chief. “And since Commander Croyle is missing all the fun, what are your plans to handle this? And do we neeeed to warn Ms. Marshall? Should she cancel her plans to visit?”
I replied “Let me get with the State Patrol, SBI, and Capitol Police, and see how they want to handle it…”
Part 7 – Louisiana Security Review
8:00am local time. Teresa came out onto the back patio of the Belvedere house. Her aunt Clarissa was the only one at the table having breakfast.
“Good morning, Aunt Clarissa.” Teresa said. “Where is everyone?”
“Good morning, Teresa. Have a seat here by me.” said Clarissa. “Everyone else is still in bed. Maybe it’s me getting old, but I like to enjoy the sunrises while I’m still here to enjoy them.”
“Well, I hope you’ll see many more.” Teresa said as the butler Charles poured her a cup of coffee. “Todd will be down in a moment. He’s sending out some emails to his company back home.”
“Todd has the air of a carefree playboy,” said Clarissa, “but he can’t totally hide the fact that he has a brilliant mind and a good work ethic. And, of course, he’s totally in love with you.”
Teresa gave a smile at that, then said “So, while we’re alone… what’s the gossip on all my newfound relatives?”
Clarissa chuckled at that, then said “I’m sure you made many observations of your own last night. I saw your eyes going everywhere, analyzing everyone. That’s what good Detectives do, of course. So I would imagine you could tell me as much about my family as I could tell you… except your mother, of course. I’m going to have Beatrice and Genie sit in with us as I tell you about your mother in her younger years.”
“Sounds good.” said Teresa. “So! If, perish forbid, something happened to you, what would happen to Beatrice and Genia?”
“I have trusts set up for them.” said Clarissa. “Enough to send them to any college they wish to go, and if they graduate, they get the rest paid out to them. As to guardianship of them… that’s a lot tougher. I have it in my will to ask Clara to take them in.” Teresa noticed her aunt’s eyes ‘wander’ to Teresa’s eyes as she said that.
“What about Robert, though?” Teresa asked, knowing she and her aunt were thinking the same thing.
“I see you’ve made the proper observations and inferences.” said Clarissa. “No, I don’t like the way he looks at the girls. And he is definitely a philandering lech. But they’re getting big enough to take care of themselves. And I know that Colin and Wendy won’t be taking them in. For all their talk about caring about the Environment, there’s not much room for caring about their family.”
“And Jen?” Teresa asked casually, a bit too casually.
“I strongly suspect that once I’m gone, Jen will not be staying here any longer than she has to.” said Clarissa, keeping her voice quiet. “Once she has her piece of the inheritance pie, she will go to California or Washington, D.C… where she will enjoy the weather climate as well as the political climate a lot more.”
“I see.” Teresa said. “Well, if worst came to worst, I’d be willing to take the girls in. But hopefully we won’t have to worry about that until they’re long past graduation, n’est pas?”
“You’re using that incorrectly.” said Clarissa. “But I agree with the sentiment.”
“So, if I may ask in the spirit of ‘professional interest’,” Teresa said, “what are your security arrangements around here?”
Clarissa said “We have cameras covering the entire property outside, as well as fencing and motion detectors. I’m sure you’ve realized that Charles’s duties extend to security, especially of the girls, and we also have a team of three people in the security room in the garage building. You’ll see them on our trips today and tomorrow.”
Teresa said “What about for all of you? I’m asking out of concern for Todd’s security much more than my own. As the CEO of an avant-garde technical company, he could be a potential target for mischief-makers.”
Clarissa said “I can understand that. As our security is based mostly around the girls, I’d suggest staying in a group with them. And speaking of young Todd, here he comes now. Good morning, Mr. Burke.”
“Good morning, ma’am. Good morning, honey.” said Todd, kissing Teresa on the cheek as he came up.
“Oh, do call me ‘Aunt Clarissa’ like your lovely wife is entitled to.” Clarissa said. “Have a seat, have some breakfast. I hope everything is going well back home.”
“Thank you, and it is.” said Todd. “I was just getting some routine reports. And Uncle Don says hi, Teresa.” Teresa nodded in acknowledgement of the unspoken confirmation that Todd had talked to Don about Jen Sakai, and perhaps other things.
“Good morning, Grandma Clarissa!” said Beatrice as she appeared at the door, followed by her sister Eugenia. “Good morning, Todd and Teresa.” Eugenia also greeted everyone as they sat down to breakfast…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
10:00am. The other adults were just beginning to have their breakfasts when Teresa sat down next to her aunt on the sofa in the ‘sitting room’, as Clarissa called it, the original room where they had first met Clarissa. Beatrice and Eugenia were in chairs just across from them, and Todd was sitting nearby but slightly apart from the others.
As she handed Teresa a large book of photographs, Clarissa said “Thanks to the marvels of modern technology, I’ve reproduced all the photos of your mother Sarah that I have, and put them into this book for you to take home, if you like.”
“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful.” Teresa said. She opened the book to see photos of her mother, from the time she was a baby to not long after her high school graduation.
“Your mother went to college, and met your father.” said Clarissa. “She brought him home… once. It became clear that the family did not think much of him, nor he of us. Physically, he was a handsome man, tall, strong, everything you’d expect an Army Officer to be. He had a strong, commanding presence, which I see in you, Teresa. He was a natural leader, and he embraced it. And it was clear he loved Sarah, and she loved him.”
“So what went wrong?” Teresa asked.
“As you know,” Clarissa said, “the Vietnam War was raging in the late 1960s, and he was actually looking forward to going over there. My grandfather’s business grew as a result of making candies for soldiers in World War Two, but they cut off his contract after the Japanese surrender. He did not blame the military, but I think my father did, and my mother definitely did. And on top of it, you can generally see the political direction of this family, with Colin being the most extreme example.”
Teresa said “But Robert Edwards isn’t. He’s a Republican.”
“True.” said Clarissa. “But he married into the family. Clara is fairly neutral in her politics, and doesn’t speak much about political issues, but she is not necessarily in sync with him on things… and please note that they never had any children.”
Clarissa: “Anyway, after meeting your father, my father attempted to force Sarah to have nothing more to do with him. She rebelled, and things grew quite heated. I might say that Sarah was always the ‘rebel’ (air quotes) of the family. She often went her own way, did what she wanted, broke the rules, dated the most disreputable of young men… which made it all the more surprising that she fell in love with your father, a committed military man.”
Clarissa: “Two weeks later, Sarah ran away from home. Apparently she and your father had anticipated potential problems, and had everything planned for her to pack a bag of clothes and meet him somewhere nearby. We… never saw her alive again.”
She spoke the last words sadly. Then she said “My father searched for her. He hired detectives, but they were not ‘Iron Crowbar’ quality, and they failed completely. He contacted the Army to find your father, but they would give us no information about him. Despite all of his power, my father never found either of them.”
Clarissa: “Many junior Officers that were sent over there never came back alive, so we thought he would be killed in Viet Nam, and Sarah would come back home. But she never did—”
Colin Esterson came into the room. “So, didn’t die in Viet Nam, after all.” he said. “What, did he have a cushy desk job in Ho Chi Min City? Run a mess hall or something?”
Todd saw the merest flash in Teresa’s eyes, that often foreshadowed somebody getting hurt. But she remained calm as she said “My father was in the 173d Airborne Brigade, leading his soldiers in some of the hardest combat of the Vietnam War. After the 173d came home in 1971, his unit remained and undertook some of the most dangerous missions of the war. He was wounded leading a rescue of a team of Green Berets, for which he was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor a few years ago.”
“Colin, you owe your cousin an apology.” Clarissa said strongly. Colin was not happy about it, but he stepped up and did the right thing.
“No offense meant. I do apologize.” he said. Teresa let it go. “How did your mother pass away?” Colin asked.
“In childbirth, delivering me.” Teresa said. “I never knew her.”
“Did she have cancer, like you had?” Clarissa asked.
“I don’t know.” Teresa said. “From my conversations with… a gynecologist at University Hospital, who found my cancer and got me treatment for it, it could have been any of several things. My own understanding is that the doctors of that time did not realize she was bleeding out until it was too late to help her.”
“That must have been hard on your dad.” Beatrice said, not realizing just how much of an understatement that was.
“Worse. He never got over it.” Teresa said. She began telling the basics of her story of growing up with Alexis, leaving the worst parts out, but telling how Alexis’s death on Christmas Eve had driven her father over the edge, and also had affected her (Teresa’s) life for many years. As she told the story, the rest of the family trickled in.
“Just a few months ago,” Teresa said, finishing up, “someone vandalized my mother’s headstone over her grave. We went to check it out, and came across some things, including who my mother really was and the inheritance that ultimately came to me.” (Author’s note: ‘Centuries’.)
“Wow.” Beatrice said sadly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d been in that situation. You’re very tough.”
“Not really.” Teresa admitted. “I was beginning to spiral down, too. And then the Iron Crowbar pulled me out of the abyss. I’m here… literally, still here on this earth… because of him.”
Then she looked at Beatrice and Eugenia and said “The Iron Crowbar takes care of his people, his Police Officers, and his family. He does not leave any of us behind, bleeding on the battlefield. And that’s what I want to be remembered for, also. You two will never have to endure the unendurable, because I will be there for you if and when you need me…”
Part 8 – Infinity Circle
“Any more on that drug case?” Jack Muscone asked as he, Tanya, Cindy, and I were eating lunch at the Cop Bar.
“Yes, I think so.” I replied. “First of all, please thank Dwight Stevens and Ashton Cardigan for their help. I’ve gotten every piece of information I’ve asked for about the operation.”
“And what does that data tell you?” Muscone asked.
“Well,” I said, “the names of those undercover agents that allegedly put the L-sugars into the original heroin shipments are redacted, and rightly so. But I’ve also come to realize that just trying to put some sugar into the pure product would not have been feasible. Ergo, while I think Dwight Stevens believes what he was told, that heroin was not supplied at the beginning of the chain… I believe it was.”
“Aw, crap.” said Muscone. “You’re probably right. And that makes this thing bad, like ‘Fast & Furious’ was vis-a-vis guns.”
“Yes, maybe.” I said. “But here’s my deduction from that: the DEA made up several large batches of pure heroin, then somehow got some of it into the hands of the original distributors. And then they started doing their tracing job. That led me to peeking into some files that not even most of the ‘CHICAGO SPICE’ team know about.”
I continued: “I discovered that six batches were made: three with L-glucose that went to Texas; and three with more complex sugars, that went to Miami. One batch of L-heroin, for lack of a better term, was substituted for a batch en route to Houston, Texas. Another was sold at the source in Mexico. The same in Miami: the perps’s batch was substituted for in a warehouse, while another was sold to the suppliers.”
“What happened to the stuff they confiscated and swapped with the L-heroin?” Jack asked.
“That is one thread I’m still looking into, and it may take some time.” I said. “It might have been destroyed… it should have been destroyed… or it might’ve been laced with more L-sugars in another facet of the operation.”
“Anyhoo,” I went on, “that left a couple of big batches left from the original source product. Since the stuff was ‘off-book’, and meant to supply heroin in the first place, those batches were likely stored somewhere for future use. I have not yet found anything that is telling me where the batches were stored nor what happened to them.”
I continued: “As to the important question of where the L-sugar the Block House Boyz were using to cut their product with came from? I think that’s what I’m going to be looking at next…”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After lunch, as Cindy and I drove to County Jail, she said “Was it just me, or was Jack really pressing you for information?”
“He was pressing.” I said. “And he has been ever since we discovered the L-sugar secret and I had him call Dwight Stevens. What’s your vibe on it?”
“He’s… nervous.” Cindy said. “But I’m not sure exactly why nor what about. I don’t think he’s worried that you’ll find something out, but maybe he’s worried that whatever comes out may be more harmful than good.”
I said “And taking that further, what do you infer from it?”
“That this could be like ‘Fast & Furious’, and embarrass the Federal Government?” Cindy guessed.
I replied: “You know how frogs drink water all day just in case you pick them up? I’m thinking along the lines that we may have picked up a frog… a Swamp Frog, and it’s going to get messy.”
There is a building on the grounds of County Jail, separate from the Jail and Precinct facilities, and enclosed by another layer of fencing with triple-concertina wire on top. It was the long-term Evidence Warehouse. In addition to older evidence, we stored large size or large quantity items there.
We drove up, and I was happy to see that Lt. Jerome Davis, Sr. Detective Joanne Warner, and Sr. Patrolman (soon to be Detective-1) Penny Scott were waiting for us, as was DEA Special Agent Juan Alberto Morales It is possible that Cindy was happier than I was to see who else was there: FBI Special Agent Tim Jenkins.
“You’re looking much better, these days, Mr. Jenkins.” I said as we came up to them and I shook his hand.
“I’m feeling better, now that I have this case to work on.” said Tim “And it’s shaping up to be a big one.”
“All of the Iron Crowbar’s cases somehow end up that way.” said Cindy.
“And we wouldn’t have it any other way, ma’am!” Joanne Warner said brightly.
“Okay,” I said, “we’re here to examine the evidence from the Block House Boyz bust. And after we look at the evidence, a couple of us will interview the arrested suspects while the rest of you will have to watch from the anteroom.”
We went inside and checked in. A Deputy Sheriff escorted us to where the evidence was being stored. “It’s all stacked on the shelves of that far wall, sir.” the Deputy said.
“What about the cutting agents?” I asked. “Are they in here, too?”
“They should be, sir.” said the Deputy. “We don’t separate drugs from non-drug paraphernalia. The only things we ever store separately are explosives and flammables, including unfired bullet cartridges.”
“Okay, thanks.” I said. We went into the fenced-in room and started to look at the packaging.
“Ah, this is interesting.” I said, picking up (in my latex-gloved hands) a kilo brick of pure China White, wrapped in plastic. “Any of you ever see this symbol before?” It was a sideways ‘8’, the symbol for Infinity. Through each circle of the 8 was one large circle.”
“The Eighth Street Latinos?” suggested Joanne Warner.
“They do use an ‘8’ as a symbol,” I said, “but it would be upright, and this ‘8’ is on it’s side. It’s the symbol for Infinity. Juan, have you come across this in your DEA work?”
“No sir, I can’t say that I have.” said Morales as he examined it. He got out his iPhone and took a photo of it, then used an app to run it. Meanwhile, I was looking through boxes until I found what I wanted to find.
“Eureka!” I said. “They’re here!”
“What is it, sir?” Jerome Davis asked as he looked into the box.
“The cutting agents.” I said. “Our CSIs and Crime Lab were kind enough to label the packages. These are bags of cornstarch, and this one bag is sugar… and I’ll bet it’s the source of the L-sugar the Crime Lab found.”
“It is, sir.” said Joanne Warner as she looked through the paperwork and checked the ID numbers against the analysis reports.
“And lo! and behold!” I said. “That Infinity Circle logo is on the box of the stuff. That’s pretty huge.” I photographed the box of sugar, which was a plain white box with the logo hand-drawn on it.
*CHIME!*
It was Morales’s app on his iPhone. After reading the information, he said “You were right, Commander… this symbol is in the DEA’s national database as being from a gang called ‘Infinity Circle’. There’s nothing here on them; it says ‘contact your Special Agent In Charge for more information’.”
“Don, how did you know that name ‘Infinity Circle’?” Cindy Ross wanted to know.
“Uh, just a guess?” I tried. “It’s the Infinity symbol and a circle.” Cindy wasn’t buying it, and Joanne and Jerome caught on quickly.
“You don’t guess. You know.” Cindy replied. “Spill it, Crowbar 1.”
“All right, you got me.” I said, realizing I’d made a mistake in saying the name. “Yes, it’s the logo of a drug gang called ‘Infinity Circle’. And since you all have clearances, I can tell you this, but don’t say even one word of it to anyone else. ‘Infinity Circle is a front… it’s really the DEA itself.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In County Jail, Wahir Al-Jabazz of the Block House Boyz gang and his Court-appointed attorney were waiting in I-1 when we got there. I said that Lt. Jerome Davis would go in with me, while the others watched and listened in from the anteroom I had an earbud in my ear, so that those in the anteroom could ask a question through me if something came up.
Their eyes barely flickered when Jerome went into the interrogation room, but the same could not be said when Your Iron Crowbar appeared in the doorway a second later. The lawyer looked surprised. Al-Jabazz looked totally shocked… and afraid.
“What have I done,” said Al-Jabazz shakily, “to merit the personal attention of the Iron Crowbar?”
“It’s just your lucky day.” I said, not saying if it was his good or bad luck.
Jerome read Al-Jabazz his rights from the card, then said “We know you have not invoked yet. We just have a couple of questions for you. First, where did you get the pure China White from?”
“My client is not answering questions like that without an Immunity Agreement.” said the lawyer. I laughed out loud.
“I have to admire you for the grandiose level of your fantasies.” I said. “We have your client dead to rights on numerous drug charges. I may consider cutting him a plea deal like he was cutting that smack with that sugar… if he cooperates.”
“Immunity, or nothing.” said the lawyer. Al-Jabazz put his hand up, stopping the lawyer from continuing. The lawyer looked put out, rolling his eyes when Al-Jabazz whispered something to him, but then said “My client insists upon us hearing you out. What’s your offer?”
“Everything dropped to misdemeanor status if your client cooperates fully.” I said. “Which means much less time in jail, but there will be either parole or deportation, depending on what the judge wants to do. But I’m not even promising that.”
“What are your questions, then?” asked the lawyer.
I said “Like my fellow Officer here asked, where did the Block House Boyz get that product? And where did they get those cutting agents?” The lawyer looked impassive, but Al-Jabazz peered at me.
“Why do I think that you are more interested in those cutting agents than the product itself?” he asked. I did not let my face show anything as he peered hard at me.
“I’m interested in all of it.” I replied. “So what’s your answer?”
“I will only say this, and it is not a confession to anything.” said Al-Jabazz. “Jacquez Wilson, may he rest in peace, obtained the supplies of everything. He had a deal with someone, I know not who. He obtained everything very cheaply, even the China White. The cutting agents were familiar to Jacquez, may he rest in peace. They were seized by the DEA after those filthy Federal Agents did not find any drugs… just the cornstarch and Monopoly money.”
“Ah, so you know about that.” I replied.
“As you apparently do, Iron Crowbar.” snarled the lawyer. “Did you throw Curtis Halsey into that metal grinder?”
“I’m not the one being interrogated here.” I replied flatly. “Wahir, you will get the deal if you tell me who Jacquez’s trading partner was?”
Al-Jabazz shook his head slowly. “I sincerely do not know. Your Vice Squad was very good; they were pinching off the normal supplies. And the shipment had fentanyl; Jacquez, may he rest in peace, did not like dealing in fentanyl. It was too inconsistent, and he did not want to sell bad product that would kill people accidentally. Bad for his reputation, and for business.”
“No doubt about that.” I said. Then I heard in my earpiece to ask him if he knew where Jacquez Wilson got the C-4 plastique from.
“Any idea where the plastique came from, the stuff that blew up and killed Jacquez and his associates?” I asked. As I expected, the lawyer stepped in.
“Don’t answer that.” said the wily lawyer. “That’s totally outside the scope of the charges against my client. Go fishing somewhere else, Iron Crowbar.”
“And I don’t know anything about the explosives.” said Al-Jabazz, earning a rebuke from the attorney.
“This interview is over.” said the attorney. “You’ve colored outside the lines, Iron Crowbar.”
“Did I.” I replied flatly. But Jerome and I got up and left, anyway.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“We interviewed everyone.” I told the Chief as those of us at County Jail and Captain Tanya P. Muscone sat with him in the Main Conference Room. “Al-Jabazz was the most forthcoming, but I don’t think the others knew much of anything. I did get one tidbit from Al-Jabazz… he did know the source of that product and cutting agent, though he may not have known individual names.”
“And who was that source?” asked the Chief.
“Anyone want a shot at the title?” I asked the room.
“Undercover DEA Agents?” said Cindy Ross.
“Close.” I said. “Verrrry close. Let me put this sequence together for y’all: Al-Jabazz was not one of those at the Block House when it blew up, lucky for him. So he wasn’t one of Jacquez Wilson’s closest people, but he was a trusted associate vis-a-vis drugs. He knew where the cornstarch came from… and his lawyer had the temerity to ask me about an event that happened that same night, but I digress.”
Your Iron Crowbar: “So Wahir knew that. I also remember that I believe KXTC was the source of the tips that led to the gang’s arrests. KXTC heard what some of us heard: that the Block House Boyz thought KXTC had betrayed them, which may be true.”
Your Iron Crowbar: “But it occurs to me that KXTC was working closely with the US DOJ Civil Rights Division to blame the Police for any violence caused by Jacquez. And who else has been working with Ava Hinds and the Civil Rights Division? The Swamp Frogs.”
“Ergo,” I went on, “I conclude that rogue, Swamp Frog elements of the DEA, or perhaps other agencies, gave Jacquez a sweetheart deal for product and cutting agent. Super low price. In exchange, Jacquez agreed to agitate against the TCPD, maybe not realizing the explosive conclusion that resulted would occur.”
I said “And that worked out well for them in soooo many ways. First, if someone took the product from a DEA warehouse and sold it, it’s pure profit… so they can offer Jacquez a price so good that he takes it even if he had reservations about it. Second, it got rid of some of the L-sugar… and also contaminated Operation CHICAGO SPICE. Third, it might well have worked to get the US DOJ Civil Rights Division the excuse they needed to hammer the TCPD… making that building explosion all the more fortuitous for us, the TCPD.”
Tim Jenkins said “And these rogue Agents used some of the CHICAGO SPICE product and cutting agent to make that deal?”
“So it appears.” I said. “What I’m not sure of is just how extensive the ‘Infinity Circle’ drug gang is. Was it created just for CHICAGO SPICE? For the L-sugar operation? Or is it bigger, and that operation was just a part of it, and just used their logo-marked product for their operations?”
Juan Morales said “I’ll ask SAC Muscone and DEA SAC Rutherford Lyndon. I need to let them know, anyway. The ‘Infinity Circle’ secret is compromised, no matter what else.” I nodded vigorously in agreement.
“Another plan that did not work out so well for a lot of the Enemy.” said Tanya. Cindy nodded vigorously in agreement.
I said “I have to commend the Swamp Frogs for a good plan in some areas, though others were left to chance and therefore failed. And someone had to have given the Block House Boyz the idea that the Media was behind the betrayal of Jacquez Wilson… and it wasn’t me.”
“A master manipulator, all the way around.” said Tanya. “But who has the brains and the means to do that?”
“Dr. Robin Isley, easily.” I said. “But we may be making an assumption in thinking the Master Planner is one of the Swamp Frogs. It could be someone far worse.” I then absentmindedly mused: “Far, far worse…”
Part 8 – Funeral? Or Rally of Hatred?
“Not God bless America! God damn America! God damn America!”
— Rev. Jeremiah Wright, Barak Obama’s pastor.
2:00pm, Friday, July 3rd. Bettina Wurtzburg and State Senator Katherine Woodburn, dressed in all black, got out of the black Escalade at MLK Park. Other KXTC employees were arriving in other cars, though not all of them by any stretch of the imagination. And some were working, videoing the impending funeral of Lester Holder.
“Not all that many people here.” said Katherine. “So why are they having it outside, in the heat and humidity?”
“Maybe more of the demonstrators they’ve asked to come will arrive soon.” said Bettina. She then nudged her head to her left and said “There’s Burt West.” Katherine looked over, seeing West talking with Eldrick X. Weaver, Edgar Silas, former State Senator Maxine Watts, Stacey Jacobs, and Bruce Finneran.
“Ah, crap.” Katherine said quietly. “It’s going to be political. They’re going to make a circus out of it.” After a pause she said: “You go ahead, and catch a ride with the KXTC people when this is over.”
“You’re leaving?” Bettina asked, totally shocked.
“You better believe it.” Katherine said. “I want to get re-elected.” With that, she went back to the Escalade and got in, and it drove off…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The crowd was not as large as originally expected, despite the efforts of the political leaders to get the active protesters to the service. The numbers had risen to perhaps three dozen young people in red Antifa shirts and one dozen scraggly-looking white students in green shirts with logos of Climate Change groups.
The Reverend Ralph Warlock, a radical activist as well as pastor of Third Baptist Church, began the funeral: “Brother Lester Holder was a black man and a reporter, making him doubly the target of Cracker cops and Republican politicians. He paid the ultimate price to bring the light of truth of white Police brutality against our People.”
“Tomorrow,” Rev. Warlock said, “white people and their white nationalist politicians will celebrate a day they call ‘Independence Day’. Isn’t that rich? That whites have a day when they say they were given their freedom? They celebrate with picnics, and fireworks. Celebrating the creation of a nation born of white privilege and black slavery, with laws created to keep blacks enslaved. That’s what they’re celebrating.”
Warlock: “They celebrate holidays devoted to the mil-i-tar-y, calling upon us to remember their ‘sacrifice’. Sacrifice for what? I tell you now that no man can serve two masters! No man can serve God and also be in the military! And that extends to the Po-leece… the Po-leece that murdered Brother Lester and other good black men when we tried to peacefully celebrate a true day of emancipation, Juneteenth!”
The crowd, especially the red-shirted agitators, began cheering and chanting as Warlock finished. The Third Baptist Church Choir sang the civil rights spiritual “Let My People Go”, suggesting Holder was a Moses-like figure leading blacks out of slavery. Eldrick X. Weaver came to the podium.
Weaver: “The history of corruption of the Town & County Police, and their institutionalized abuse of power against People of Color is long, deep, and stained with the blood of good black men like Lester Holder. And that white nationalism and abuse of power starts at the very top. The reason Lester Holder is dead, the reason we are here remembering his sacrifice for our causes, is illegitimate Mayor Daniel Allgood!”
Weaver: “Allgood has not only stolen an election he knows in his corrupt racist heart that he lost, he has not only stood by while white Police terrorize and abuse good black people, he has enabled the Police brutality. Because of him, corrupt white racist cops like Donald Troy feel enabled to do whatever they want to blacks, including murdering them, knowing they have their white nationalist illegitimate Mayor to back them up!
Weaver: “That’s why this next election is so important! We must crush every Republican, kick all of their racist asses out of office! But most important of all is destroying Daniel Allgood! I know that when I’m Mayor after this election, Allgood will be made to pay for his crimes, especially the crime of protecting that racist white cop Donald Troy!”
Edgar Silas was next: “I agree that the root cause of the racism in this County is Donald Troy! That corrupt ‘Uncle Tom’ Joseph E. Williams worked with Troy to re-write the County Charter, and destroy the Boards of Inquiry that were all we had to keep Troy’s unchecked racism and abuse of People of Color in line! We must elect Bruce Finneran as Inspector General, and me to the Town & County Council, so we can destroy Donald Troy! We’ll destroy… Donald Troy! We’ll destroy… Donald Troy!”
The agitators, led by an obviously pleased Bruce Finneran, picked up the chant: We’ll destroy… Donald Troy! We’ll destroy… Donald Troy! We’ll destroy… Donald Troy! We’ll destroy… Donald Troy!…”
And then came Burt West. He tried to remain calm, but as he spoke, people were reminded of the obsessive hatred of not only Lester Holder, but another reporter: John Hardwood.
Burt West: “Lester Holder was my Media colleague. As a member of the honorable profession of Journalism, Lester was committed and devoted to discovering and exposing the truth, especially about the Police brutality of white cops against People of Color. He endured a severe beating and hospitalization, a crime the Town & County Police under Donald Troy did not even try to solve.” (Author’s note: ‘Iscariot’, Ch. 01-02.)
West: “Lester Holder was exposing the Police persecution of Jacquez Wilson, a civil right leader devoted to the cause of justice for blacks. Lester was giving Mr. Wilson a voice in our never-ending war against Donald Troy! And I don’t believe for a minute that the Block House just blew up of its own accord. The blood of Lester Holder and the others will forever stain the filthy white hands of the most corrupt cop in this State’s history, Donald Troy!” The agitators cheered.
West: “Lester Holder was beaten, and ultimately murdered, because the corrupt, racist Donald Troy could not allow the voice of truth about him to be told! Troy is whining about his racist white cop being beaten and in the Hospital, but he didn’t give a damn when my colleague was beaten and put in the Hospital! Troy didn’t give a damn about his white cops pulling over blacks for D-W-B, or arresting and charging blacks with crimes committed by whites… but when Lester Holder was exposing Troy’s corruption, Lester Holder was assassinated to silence his voice, just as Jasmine Nix was!” (Author’s note: ‘Sandstorm’, Ch. 03-04.)
West: “I call upon you to resist! Resist the corruption of Donald Troy! Resist the corruption of his White Nationalist allies, and his white motorcycle gang that comes in and beats peaceful, innocent black citizens! Tomorrow Troy will be at the starting line of the Triathlon with other White Nationalists… you will know who they are, because they call themselves ‘Republicans’! I know the other speakers here are calling for us to boycott the Day of White Independence, but I say you should confront Donald Troy and his fellow racists, and let them know how you feel! Show them your rage! Make them answer when you ask them ‘Do black lives matter?’! Don’t let ’em off the hook!”
The agitators in the crowd cheered lustily. What they did not notice was that most of the Media reporters that had been sent to cover the funeral were beginning to break their equipment down, pack, and leave. They had the footage they needed, but most of them would not use that footage, nor even report on the funeral, knowing the vicious rhetoric they were hearing might help their enemies, like Sharon Marshall, more than the good of ginning up division and hatred based on race would do them..
Part 9 – The Real Swamp
Meanwhile…
Teresa and Todd were with the entire Belvedere family on a boat traveling slowly along one of the swamps between the Belvedere home and the coast line to the south. The boat had an awning built above it to shield the passengers from the blazing sun, and the tourists were looking over the rails at the tremendous diversity of animal and plant life in the swamp eco-system. Everyone ooh-ed and aah-ed whenever an alligator was spotted, and there were four such creatures sighted during this excursion.
Todd was wearing a white golf/polo shirt, khaki short pants, and high-top tennis shoes. Teresa was wearing a white pullover shirt that she did not tuck in, khaki pants that went just over her knees, and what amounted to work boots. “Your Lara Croft look, eh?” Todd had teased her when he first saw her.
As they’d taken their seats when boarding the boat, Jen Sakai had sat down by Teresa, and had noticed the well-concealed handgun Teresa was carrying. “You’re armed?” Jen said quietly. “Aren’t you out of jurisdiction?”
“I have a Federal Firearms Permit.” Teresa said. “And while I’m not expecting any trouble, I’m always concerned for my husband’s safety.” And for her own safety, too, though she didn’t say that.
“I can understand that.” Jen said, then added: “If Colin or Wendy see it, they’ll go bananas. They are bitterly anti-gun-rights.”
“So they think only Police Officers should have guns?” Teresa asked nonchalantly.
Jen chuckled at the subtle humor; after all, Teresa was a Police Officer. Jen said: “And they want to defund the Police, too. I’m a little surprised they haven’t made snarky remarks to you about being a cop.”
“I think they’re too busy preaching to Todd about Climate Change.” said Teresa. “They’re either trying to shame him, or they want a donation from him.” Jen laughed at that.
Meanwhile, Todd had been ‘corralled’ by ‘Bobby’ Edwards, who was wearing a button-down shirt along with long-sleeve khakis and shoes not really meant for outdoor excursions like this.
“So how are you liking Louisiana, so far?” Edwards asked.
“I’m the man who accompanied Teresa Croyle to Louisiana.” said Todd. “And I’m enjoying it very much.”
Edwards chuckled, then said “Louisiana is a great place for business. We’ve got a little of everything, here. Oil and gas production; Louisiana is the third-largest producer of petroleum in the United States. and fully one-quarter of the Nation’s natural gas is from this State. And with that comes petrochemicals, and a strong overall chemical production industry.”
“My uncle would love that, being the chemist that he is.” Todd said.
“And your own business has been active in the chemical industry.” said Edwards. He continued: “Beyond that, Louisiana has a huge commercial fishing industry, accounting for 25% of the seafood consumed in the United States. In agriculture, we’re second in sugar cane and sweet potatoes, and we have high yields of feed grains and soybeans.”
“What part of Louisiana are you from?” Todd asked.
“Shreveport, in the northwest corner of the State.” said Edwards. “Shreveport was the capitol of Louisiana from 1863-65 during the Civil War, when the filthy Northerners captured Baton Rouge. It’s the third-largest city in Louisiana, after Baton Rouge and New Orleans. Barksdale AFB is up there, too.”
Todd said “Well, when I’m ready to expand, I’ll take a look around here.”
“When you do,” said Edwards, “you’ll find that we’re like many places… it’s who you know more than anything else. And I can help you get in touch with the right people. Of course, the ‘cost of doing business’ is part of doing business, and the businesses that work well with our civic leaders are the ones that get business done here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” said Todd. He looked over and said “Uh oh, I better go rescue my wife from our Climate knights in shining armor.”
“Watch out for them.” Robert said in a low voice, with some menace tricking into it. “They may sound like harmless quacks, but they mean to destroy Free Enterprise, and they’ll stop at nothing to achieve their goals…”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The boat tour included a stop of an antebellum plantation home. It was was a mixture of French and American Southern styles, and had once been a sugar cane plantation.
“They grew sugar cane here, and still do.” said Clara Bessemer Edwards, to Teresa, as they followed the tour group around. “My family… er, our family… probably bought a lot of it to make their chocolates and cookies. My father, Edward Bessemer, really prided himself on using local Louisiana sugar to make Bessemer cookies.”
“I’m sorry he died before his time.” Teresa said. “If he hadn’t, maybe you’d still have the company.”
“Maybe.” said Clara. “My mom always thought the company would’ve been sold off anyway. My grandfather loved it, and my father loved it… but I think everyone else cared more about the money. Aunt Clarissa, bless her heart, she’s a good person… but she didn’t lose a minute’s sleep having the annuities to live on for the rest of her life. And her kids are rotten to the core, so sorry.”
“Maybe the real Louisiana sugar is why Bessemer cookies are the tastiest on the market.” Teresa said, to change the subject. “My friend Tanya got married a few months ago, and featured Bessemer cookies at her reception. And everyone was raving about them. I didn’t know the family connection then, of course.”
“Oh I agree.” said Clara. “Local ingredients, especially the sugar, make Bessemer cookies the best. I’m glad BigAgraFoods still purchases Louisiana sugar to make some of the cookies, especially the sugar cookies. The stuff they get from other places may be cheaper, but the cookies they make with that stuff simply aren’t as good.”
“So why did they change?”
“Same reason Coca-Cola arranged that whole ‘New Coke’ fiasco.” said Clara. “So that when they went back to ‘Classic Coke’, they weren’t using sugar at all, but high-fructose corn syrup. Similar taste but not quite the same… and a heck of a lot cheaper.”
Teresa nodded, then said “The only thing I really know about Coca-Cola is that cocaine is a byproduct of making it, and the Federal Government closely supervises the destruction of it. I can only imagine the disaster if some of that stuff was simply ‘disappeared’ by those Feds, and sold onto the open market…”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After the boat tour, the tour group was treated to a Cajun dinner. Part of it was a low country boil, where the ingredients were boiled and then poured onto a table, and everyone helped themselves. Additionally, there was a buffet with other dishes.
“I’ll give you newcomers a small warning now.” said Clarissa Belvedere Esterson. “It is way past the prime crawfish season, so what they have here was likely frozen, then thawed out and steamed. It’s still good, but it’s not good, fresh crawfish.”
But the jambalaya and gumbo made up for it. And Teresa went back for seconds and thirds of the shrimp and grits. “This stuff is good.” she said to Todd as she ate her third helping.
“It’s all good. This gumbo is to die for.” said Todd as he ate a large bowl of it.
“You should try the spicy gumbo.” said Wendy Esterson. “What you’re having is very mild, by comparison.”
“It’s really good for a beginner like me.” replied Todd with a grin. “The crawfish pie is good, too, even if it is made from frozen crawfish.”
“It’s a shame, too.” said Colin Esterson. “Robert talks about the commercial fishing industry like it’s a good thing, but they’re overfishing our waters so badly that they’re destroying the eco-system. That, and that oil and gas they’re leaking into the waters, which is further damaging our planet.”
“I guess I better enjoy the crawfish pie while I can, then.” Todd said jovially, a bit too jovially. Colin and Wendy didn’t particularly like that comment.
“There will be plenty of fishing for years and years to come.” said Robert Edwards as he came up to them with a plate of food from the low country boil table. “Don’t let the ridiculous predictions and outright lies of the Left distort your thinking.”
“Typical Republican.” snarled Wendy Esterson. “Doesn’t give a damn about anything but lining his own pockets with the blood money of crony capitalists. Are you a Republican, Mr. Burke?”
“Oh, I don’t belong to any political party, Mrs. Esterson.” Todd replied lightly. “What I have observed, over time… is that the Establishments of both Parties work hand-in-glove together while pretending to argue about things.”
That ended all political commentary for the evening…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Back at home, everyone was having drinks on the back patio again. Beatrice and Eugenia’s were non-alcoholic. Teresa was having a cigar with her Scotch, neat, again, while Jen Sakai was having a rum and Coke with her cigar. Colin had brought out his Meerschaum pipe, lacking only a deerstalker cap to look like a Sherlock Holmes wannabee.
“Pipe tobacco smoke smells very good, aromatically,” said Clarissa as she sat with Teresa, overlooking the back yard, “but it tastes awful. Cigars smell like tobacco, but taste a lot better. I used to enjoy them, until my health declined and I had to give them up.”
“I rarely smoke anything, especially in front of our boys at home.” Teresa said. “But these cigars really are that good… and so is the Scotch.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying them.” said Clarissa. “So what are Todd’s vices, if any?”
“It used to be women.” said Teresa. “But he really slowed his roll on that when he had children to take care of. He’s really a very good father.”
“That’s fortunate.” said Clarissa. “I wish I could say the same of some of the men in this family.”
“Didn’t Beatrice and Genia’s father die in an accident?” Teresa asked.
“Oh yes, and he was a good father to them.” said Clarissa. “And their grandfather, Edward Bessemer, he was a decent father to his children.”
“So he died in a work-related accident?” Teresa asked, adroitly probing her aunt for more information.
“Yes.” said Clarissa. “And the legend that he fell into a vat of flour is true. A horrible way to die, I am sure… though one secret about that accident never did come out: he was dead when he fell into the vat.”
“Murdered?” Teresa gasped, her professional instincts kicking in.
“I don’t know, not for sure.” said Clarissa. “But my father had a private talk with the Coroner. The final autopsy report came out that Edward had died of asphyxiation, but I remember that the preliminary finding was that his heart had stopped before he fell. I naturally thought he’d had a heart attack right at that moment, and fell into the vat as he lost consciousness. But nothing was ever said of that in the autopsy report.”
“So who would want to kill him?” Teresa asked. “And why?”
Clarissa chuckled merrily, almost a cackle. “Heh heh heh heh! Ever the Detective, you are, my dear! You were born to be one, if I don’t miss my guess.”
And I’ll bet you rarely do, Teresa thought to herself. Out loud she said “Yes, I have to admit it’s professional interest… my profession.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t a lot.” said Clarissa as Charles the Butler poured Teresa another Scotch, and added a few drops of water to release the flavor of the Scotch. “As you know, Edward is credited with saving the Belvedere Company from spiraling into bankruptcy, and his cookies saved the company, and therefore all of us from financial ruin. Had he lived, he would have been tapped to succeed my father as the CEO of the company.”
Clarissa: “After he died, my father began preparing to sell the company. He had come to despise my husband’s lack of business acumen, and he simply did not consider that I or Dora Clara could run it; after all, that was the mid-1970s, the heyday of the Glass Ceiling, Helen Reddy, and the Equal Rights Amendment.”
Clarissa: “It took a while, but BigAgraFoods’s subsidiary company finally paid a fair price for the company. My father put almost all of the money into trusts for his three daughters, including Sarah in the hopes she would contact us and return home one day.”
Clarissa: “My father was named to the Board of Directors of the subsidiary company, but I believe the boredom of his retired life was a large part of his eventual passing away, and my mother died shortly afterwards of a broken heart.”
Clarissa: “So I guess I’m one of your suspects, as the house and a substantial fortune came to me, as well as to Dora Clara. From what I understand, neither your mother nor your father ever knew about any of this, so you can safely eliminate them from your list of suspects. Additionally, my husband gave up all pretenses of working for a living. I did not divorce him, but we led separate lives out of separate bedrooms. So he benefitted, as well.”
Teresa asked “Did Edward have any other enemies? And to that point, did your father? Was there pressure on him to sell out to the Big Boy company?”
“Ah, you’re already ahead of me.” said Clarissa. “And the answer to your question is that several large companies wanted to buy the company, but their first efforts were to destroy it. Edward overcame the attempts to bankrupt us, attempts my father couldn’t handle. BigAgraFoods was run by a despicable man named George Willis, and he enjoyed crushing his competition.”
“Did George Willis have a son named Mitt Willis?” Teresa asked.
“Why ye-ezzz!” said Clarissa. “You know who Mitt Willis was?”
“Oh yes.” Teresa said. “He tried to destroy the Iron Crowbar. He lost. And I was there when one of Willis’s employees took him out. I watched Mitt Willis die, and to this day I don’t feel one bit of regret nor pity.” (Author’s note: ‘Swamp Frogs’, Ch. 02.)
“Well, I’ll declare!” said Clarissa. “But yes, George was Mitt’s father, and every bit as despicable. And would Willis have my brother-in-law killed to force my father to sell the company? There can be no doubt.”
“Of course,” Clarissa continued, “it could easily have been one of the other competing companies. And then there was the Union representing the sugar cane workers… the Unions were just becoming powerful and asserting themselves in those days, before President Reagan broke PATCO. Edward was a hard-liner against the Union’s attempts to unionize the company’s employees as well as the sugar cane field workers. They did successfully unionize it all after Edward died.”
“Last, but not least,” said Clarissa, “were the politicians. As you’ve seen from Robert, Louisiana politics can be very rough-and-tumble. They want their cuts, their pieces of the action. I’d rather deal with Organized Crime, with the Mob, than Louisiana politicians, and my niece’s husband is one of the filthy predators. My father usually dealt with them the normal, way: he paid the protection money in the form of campaign donations. But Edward didn’t play around with them; he refused to give ’em a dime.”
Teresa said “I’m not sure Edward’s death, and the sale of the company to BigAgraFoods, benefitted the politicians. Big Boy companies play the game, but can’t be intimidated by politicians the way the little companies can be.”
“There’s truth in that.” said Clarissa. “Tell me, does your husband have to deal the Mobs, and with the politicians?”
Teresa replied “He plays the game with the politicians; he’ll give campaign contributions in reasonable measure to politicians of both parties, to ensure he gets and keeps his permits. It’s the Federal Government that has given him the most trouble, when they accused him of passing secrets to Israel, then rogue agents tried to steal one of his research projects.”
She did not mention how far they had gone in their attempts to steal BOW Enterprises secrets, including the Mutanix. (Author’s note: ‘Moonlight Shadow’, ‘The Nuclear Option’, ‘A Death In The Family’.)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Returning to their room for the night, Todd was ‘not surprised’ when Teresa began sweeping their room for bugs. And she found some: one in the lampshade on the bedside table’s lamp, one in the landline telephone on the other bedside table, and one in the lights over the vanity in the bathroom.
They went onto the patio and closed the doors. Teresa swept there for bugs, but found none. They sat down on the two metal mesh chairs, and talked very quietly.
“Those bugs weren’t there yesterday.” Teresa said. “So who planted them?”
“The security guys were with us, so it was either Charles or a family member.” said Todd.
Teresa nodded. “Want to go home? After what Jen said on the phone last night, I’d be much less worried about your safety.”
Todd grinned, and said “Naah, I feel safe with my security blanket with me, that being you. But we were going to leave Monday morning. If you want to up that to Sunday, I’ll claim some kind of business emergency.”
“Let’s do that, for Sunday afternoon.” Teresa said. “So, how was your day with my relatives today?”
“The tour was really nice, and the dinner was good.” Todd said. “And State Senator Robert ‘Bobby’ Edwards invited me to bribe him if I wanted to do business here. He was surprisingly open about it.”
Teresa said “Aunt Clarissa said those politics are about as old as Louisiana is. Clara Edwards is well-versed on some of the business things about Bessemer cookies, probably to aid her husband in talking up Louisiana to businesses thinking of coming here. Oh, and Jen Sakai noticed my concealed weapon, and seemed very taken aback by it.”
She then told Todd about George Willis, Mitt’s father, and how BigAgraFoods had pressured Belvedere to sell the company, and that Clarissa was not convinced that Edward Bessemer’s death was a tragic accident, but possibly was a tragic murder. “It’s a small, small world, that Mitt Willis’s father was the one who put the screws to my grandfather. I told Aunt Clarissa that I was there when Mittens died… but not that I almost tackled him in time to save him.”
Todd nodded. “Yes… and I have the feeling that this family might have to deal with the Willis’s and BigAgraFoods again… didn’t Mitt Willis have kids?”
Teresa said “Yes, and his son Matthew was implicated in the Tau Fraternity hazings and rapes, but never formally charged.” (Author’s note: ‘Unresolved’.) “Yes, I agree that he will take the Willis family to new heights of crime.”
Little did either know what would be wrought…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Ohhh…” the listeners heard. It was Teresa’s voice. “Ohhh, you’re cock is so… big!… Oh yeah… just like that… ohhhh…”
“That’s right, baby,” they heard Todd say, “take very inch of my big dick! Oh yeah, you’re so tight… so wet…”
It definitely enhanced their lovemaking to be as noisy as they could for whoever was listening to the bugs. And those listeners were enjoying it, as well…
Part 10 – Let Freedom Ring
“Let freedom ring,
Let the white dove sing,
Let the whole world know that today,
is a day of a reckoning!
Let the weak be strong,
Let the right be wrong,
Roll the stone away, Let the guilty pay
It’s Independence Day.”
— Martina McBride, ‘Independence Day’.
7:00am, Saturday, July 4th. Wearing my Police uniform of a light blue shirt, dark blue pants with double-light-blue piping down the sides, and an armored vest, I drove in my SUV from The Cabin around the mountain and down the road past McGhillie’s Golf Course and onto Reservoir Road. I was allowed through the checkpoint, and went down the road to the Start Line, the starting point of the Triathlon.
Security was being set up near where Reservoir Road ends at the Nextdoor County Highway, and the road that led past The Cabin and Teresa’s home was blocked off to all but emergency vehicles just up from where the road dumps into University Avenue.
And speaking of emergency vehicles, I saw an ambulance parked on the other side of the road from the starting line, and went to it. Paramedics Ellen Brooks and Kevin Randolph, who had saved Corporal Inga Gunddottar’s life, were sitting on the back bumper. Their EMT uniforms looked sharp, I was pleased but not surprised to see.
When they saw me, they stood up and (unnecessarily) saluted me. “All the way and then some, sir!” Ellen Brooks said enthusiastically.
“Air-borne!” I replied happily as I returned the salute. “How are you guys doing? You recovering from your wounds, Brooks?”
“Yes sir.” said Ellen. “I’m back on duty.”
“Good.” I said. “Be ready August 1st. Purple Order on the way for you.” I looked over the ambulance. “This is the ambulance Kalsu drove you in to rescue Gunddottar?”
“Yes sir.” said Kevin Randolph. “We’re generally going to follow the race. After everyone has done the swim, we’ll join the ambulance at the bike ride starting point, and then migrate to the finish line. We are also prepared to be called up in case of… trouble.”
I nodded. “Good plan. Okay, I’ll most likely see you again at the Finish Line.”
“Oh, sir!” said Ellen as I was about to leave. “Some of us in the Police, Fire, and EMT services are planning on having a civilian parachute jump, maybe to raise money for equipment or for charity. Would you be interested in jumping with us?”
“Would I?” I exclaimed. “You betcha!”
“That will be the day!”
The voice behind me belonged to the Green Crowbar, and Cindy was tapping it in her hand as she came up to us. With her was Callie Carrington, Cindy’s mother Maggie, and Betsy Ross, who was in her grandmother’s arms.
Cindy was wearing her Police uniform like I was, and also wearing armor. She did not even bother to speak to me, but went up to Ellen and Kevin and said “This man’s back has been broken at least twice, and if he tries to make another parachute jump, I will break it again if the jump doesn’t. So don’t be getting his hopes up.”
“Yes ma’am.” said Ellen. “Sorry sir, I didn’t know about your back.”
“Oh, it’s just fine.” I said. “I didn’t have any problems when Jack Muscone and I jumped into his wedding.”
“The only reason I didn’t bust him up then,” said Cindy, “was because the plane was wired with explosives, and blew up the Impound Yard when it crashed.” (Author’s note: ‘Power of Love’, Ch. 03.)
“Seriously,” I said, “I do appreciate the Deputy Chief looking out for my health and safety—”
We were interrupted by a contingent of vehicles coming into the Start Line area. Among them was the Commander of the State Patrol (all of it), Colonel Hartmann. With him was the Commander of State Patrol Post 1, the 1st District post, Captain Cortese.
“Good to see you again, Commander.” said Hartmann in his typically energetic style. His uniform was pressed to razor-sharp perfection. “We’re here to get in place for Lieutenant Governor Marshall’s arrival.”
“Good morning, Colonel, Captain.” I said, shaking their hands. “You know Deputy Chief Ross, and this is her family. And allow me to introduce Paramedics Brooks and Randolph, who went in and rescued my injured Police Officer in that standoff.”
“Mighty fine work.” said Colonel Hartmann as he shook their hands. “Forgive my abruptness, but I need to get started. What time is the Lieutenant Governor getting here?”
I said “The race starts at 9:00am, and she’s the official Starter of it. So I’d imagine minutes before then. I’ll show you where you can set up your command post.” I excused myself from everyone else, and went along with the State Troopers…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
People began trickling in. The racers were allowed within the security rings and were checking in. We’d limited the crowds to invited guests and families, that had passes not unlike what I’d observed at Augusta National Golf Course when Cindy and I went there. (Author’s note: ‘Four Square’, Ch. 03.) People went through ‘airport security’ metal detectors, then were wanded, and they had to have their passes in plastic sleeves on lanyards around their necks at all times.
The dignitaries began arriving at 8:30am. Sheriff Antonio Griswold, Council Members Edward R. Steele, J.P. Goldman, John Colby, Dagmar Schoen, Katina Jones, State Reps Billy Williams of the Town & County and Peter Long Cox of Nextdoor County, Mrs. Myrtle L James, and State Senator Moe Molinari were all here. Ian McGhillie was running point helping park the State Troopers… and making sure they didn’t destroy his golf course by encroaching onto it. Daniel Allgood would be arriving with Lt. Governor Marshall.
Also present were representatives of that most despised of institutions: the Media. I saw a couple of Media vans, and maybe three camerapersons with their cameras.
Alison McFarland of the Town & County Examiner had gained access to the area with her Press credentials. But she seemed more interested in handing out flyers announcing her big podcast on Wednesday night, which I knew was being picked up by KFXU… and was about Admiral Cordell.
“Sheriff,” I said quietly to the Sheriff, “there doesn’t seem to be a large contingent of Media today.”
“The Fox channels are using Fox Eight’s feed.” said Griswold. “KXTC has a van here, as does the SNN Network. KSB may just be using KXTC’s feed. But if your observation is that the Mainstream Media wants to cover Sharon Marshall as little as possible, you’re probably right.”
I replied “The silver lining to that cloud is that maybe they don’t expect a lot of trouble from agitators today.”
“We can only hope, Crowbar.” growled Griswold. “We can only hope.”
“And speaking of hope,” I said as I looked down the road, “here comes our hope to be the next Governor.” The Sheriff followed my gaze, and saw the procession of State Troopers coming up the road, lightbars blazing.
A moment later, the State Patrol’s armored Escalade opened to reveal Sharon Marshall, Lieutenant Governor of the State, and Republican nominee to succeed Val Jared as Governor. Also getting out of the car was the Honorable Mayor of the Town & County, Daniel Allgood. I noted that Melina was not with him. Whassup with dat? I wondered.
Amidst tight security, Sharon Marshall came up the line of dignitaries waiting to shake her hand. She had Katina Jones come with her, giving Katina as much publicity as possible.
I had attempted to get out of the way, but Colonel Hartmann himself prevented that. “Come on, Commander, you know the Lieutenant Governor wants to be seen with you. She’d put you on a leash and make you follow her around if she could get away with it!”
“Sounds kinky.” I said. “My wife the sex professor might want to study that, but I’ll pass.” Colonel Hartmann guffawed at that.
“Don!” Sharon Marshall exclaimed when she got to me. A handshake wasn’t enough; she hugged me, and very warmly at that. Katina Jones hugged me even more warmly, perhaps remembering our hot interracial liaisons in bed. (Author’s note: ‘Eyes Only’ Ch. 03.)
I’d also felt that Sharon’s jacket was very stiff… it was light armor, not unlike the armor in my specially-tailored suits and in the lining of my trenchcoat. Better than nothing, I thought to myself.
“It’s great to be here!” said Sharon Marshall as she spoke into the microphone near the Start Line. “I’m honored to be here to celebrate the Fourth of July at one of our State’s greatest traditions, the Town & County Triathlon!” The crowd cheered.
“As you know, I’m involved in another race, a race of a different sort.” said Sharon Marshall. “I’m going to need your support! We need all of you to get out the vote, to get people registered to vote, to make everyone aware of the differences between us and our opponents this year!
Marshall: “Our thoughts and prayers are with the TCPD Officer who was badly injured by a filthy drug gang! And I’m proud to have with us the paramedics that went through enemy gunfire to save her!” The crowd roared as she pointed to Ellen Brooks and Kevin Randolph, who just looked stoic.
“I will tell you now,” said Sharon Marshall, “that when I am elected Governor, all this talk about defunding the Police will fall on deaf ears! I support our Police! And I support great Police Officers like Commander Donald Troy, who has stood fast against the anarchists bringing crime and death to our streets!” She pointed at me as I stood near Ellen and Kevin. I was grateful to hear the loud cheers of applause for me.
“How come I don’t get recognized like that?” Cindy whispered to me, knowing I had not asked for that nor wanted it.
“Because you won’t let me make any parachute jumps.” I replied with an evil grin.
“When in a deep hole, mon cousin.” the Green Crowbar replied. “When in a deep hole…”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As the racers were told to assemble at the Start Line, Police radios started squawking.
“Break, break, break!” I heard on the earpiece in my ear that was plugged into my Police radio. “Large crowd coming down Reservoir Road from Nextdoor County Highway, wearing red shirts, wielding chains with locks on the end, tire irons, crowbars, and aluminum baseball bats.”
“They’re approaching the main checkpoint!” I heard someone else say. “We are badly outnumbered! Do we have permission to disperse with tear gas?…”
All eyes in the vicinity were on me…
To be continued.
What do you think will happen?